


You never ever do that to me again

by microdreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aurors, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Accidents, POV Hermione Granger, Unspeakables (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microdreams/pseuds/microdreams
Summary: Hermione remembers one time that they had joked about putting a official plaque on the double swing doors billing it as “The Harry Potter Corridor”. Harry had laughingly but sheepishly insisted it unfair. After all, it wasn’t just him who got put in this out of the way room. He had pointed out that if the Minister, Ron or Hermione got spell damaged they would be hidden away here too. Maybe even other well known individuals who would otherwise be gawked at in the higher traffic areas of the ward. Back then Ron had pointed out that those other visitors were, however, theoretical, while Harry’s own occupation of the room on a regular basis was proven fact.Harry had got himself hurt. Draco isn’t happy about it.





	You never ever do that to me again

As Hermione pushes through the last door, leading to the dead end of long Spell Damage corridor, the shouting sounds clearer.

"You don't seem to be understanding what I’m saying. You need to call Healer Green. The treatment..."

"The treatment is according to a well researched protocol and I will not be calling _Senior_ Healer Green in on the weekend on the say so of a... Of you. Sir."

"Then you're a fool! I've already explained very clearly why the protocol won't work! In fact it will make things worse. If you won't call Healer Green..."

"Sir. If you don't stop obstructing our work here I _will_ call the duty Aurors and have you removed."

"Fantastic. Call them. Then they can call the Minister for me, and he'll get Healer Green here."

Stood in front of the door to a room is a Junior Healer. He's planted himself in a firm stance, hand in warning on the wand at his waist.

Opposite stands Draco Malfoy. He's a good head taller than the Healer, lithe and poised. She can tell from his pose, balanced on the balls of his feet, shoulders dropped into a duelling stance, that he's on edge. He's got an alert charm in his hand. The smoke filled glass globe swirls with a thick sickly yellow smoke, run through with black. 

So. A curse. A pretty nasty one.

He spins towards her as she steps closer, his wand up defensively, then lets out a gust of breath as he takes a step towards her.

"Granger. Thank Merlin."

It's been ten years since she last saw him. Accompanying Harry to the post-War trials she'd received a stilted but seemingly sincere apology during a pause in proceedings. After he was freed Malfoy had swiftly left the country.

The longer and more formal written apologies had come later, by owl. To her, to Ron, to Neville, to Luna, and she can't even guess how many others. They were more carefully considered, but seemed no less truthful or remorseful for it.

There had been no return address.

It takes a few seconds for her to take the unusual situation in. He's dressed in what at first glance look like Muggle clothes. Finely cut navy wool jersey trousers, in a harem style, a soft navy long sleeved t-shirt with an iridescent sheen to it. His long hair is caught back in a knot at the nape of his neck. He's got a plain silver ring on his left thumb. She's seen those before. Knows an Unspeakable when she sees one.

She'd heard rumours, of course. Noted both Harry and Ron's obfuscation on the subject when they were asked.

He doesn't waste any time with hellos or explanations, and she finds she appreciates that, despite being intrigued.

Later.

"I need you to get Healer Green here, Granger. I need to show him the files on this case." She sees now the worn leather satchel lying on the visitors' chairs, haphazardly collected papers sticking out of the top. His look is pleading.

It seems like there is little time to second guess herself. "Get Senior Healer Green." She has no authority here, but it is an order nonetheless. She sees the Junior Healer hesitate. She wouldn't want to be holding his wand in this situation.

Softening her voice, she tries again. "Please get Senior Healer Green. On my say so." She can see he's still torn. The mere presence of Malfoy has rubbed him up the wrong way, and he doesn't want to deviate from protocol. She hardens her voice again. "Do it. Or you can be the one to explain the resulting condition of Senior Investigating Auror Potter to the Minister personally." He concedes with wide eyes and a nod, making his way out of the double swing doors back into the main areas of the ward.

She sees Malfoy sag against the nearest wall. 

"Going to tell me what the hell is going on, Malfoy?"

"I can't. Not fully."

Suddenly she's furious. Shouldering Malfoy aside she grasps the door handle. It sparks lightly as she touches it and she pulls her hand away sharply.

"The Healers are still in with him. Treating him. That's why I need Healer Green here as soon as possible."

Hermione wheels round. Malfoy has moved to the chairs where he is leafing through his papers, he's clearly searching for something and Hermione has had enough of not knowing what's going on. As one of Harry’s next of kin she had been automatically alerted to him being admitted, but beyond that she knows very little. Then something odd strikes her.

"Why isn't there someone from the DMLE here? Injuries on active duty always trigger a presence from personnel? Why couldn't they request Healer Green themselves?"

She's suddenly very aware that she's at the end of a very long deserted corridor, no staff in sight, with Draco Malfoy. Harry is locked in the room beyond, cursed, and something isn't right at all. She snicks her wand out of her holster and into her hand.

"Malfoy? What happened? You tell me right now. Why are you here, why is that globe in your hand rather than in that of DMLE personnel, and why couldn't you contact Robards yourself?"

He's sat, papers in hand, frozen. He looks sick to his core.

"What the hell have you done, Malfoy? If you have stepped one hair’s breadth out of line and it has harmed him, I swear..."

"Stop 'Mione! Leave the man alone." Her diatribe glides to a halt at the sound of Ron's voice. She moves to meet him but he steps past her and, to her surprise, drops down in a crouch next to Malfoy.

"What happened?"

He shakes his head at Ron, "He must have spotted something in the surveillance data. I saw him at I guess six-ish and he said he was going to go through it all, including the new reports. I went back just before nine, as I was leaving, and he was gone. I didn't have a chance to go through the documents to see what he'd noticed. But the plans for Arcadia were on the top of the pile. There were traces of recent apparation from the nearest point to his office. By the time I got there he was down. I brought him straight here, but they just pushed him straight in, started standard curse damage protocol."

Ron’s complexion goes grey. "Fuck."

"I tried, Ron. But they wouldn't listen. I really did. Granger finally convinced them."

Ron glances up at her with a tight smile.

Malfoy runs his hand’s through his hair. "He didn't clear it before he went. No back up, no extraction Portkey. Nothing! This was sat on his desk." He's still gripping the smoke filled globe. "I need to contact Robards. But he's at that conference. I didn't know who else was authorised. We weren't ready to go live yet."

Ron's voice is gentle. Reassuring. "I know mate. This isn't on you. You have to know that." Malfoy shakes his head. “Really. He never had much sense of self-preservation.” Ron clasps his shoulder then stands. He tips his head to Hermione to lead her away.

This is the most confused she's felt in a long time.

Her takes her hand, brushes over her wedding ring. She knows he does this for comfort, and the fact that he’s doing it now both gives her comfort and strikes a deep fear into her. He looks at her again, "There is someone more senior coming now?"

She nods. "How bad is it?" She's not actually sure if she wants to know the answer.

Ron glances across at Malfoy, and she follows his gaze. He has one hand gripped tight round the pile of papers on his lap. The other is still holding the alert globe.

"Pretty fucking bad, 'Mione."

x x x x x x x

Once Senior Healer Green arrives Malfoy seems to snap out of his stupor. Hermione watches as he professionally runs the Healer though the intricacies of the curse, points out the ways in which it will interact disasterously with the usual countercurses and replenishing potions. He’s precise, sharp, in control.

Healer Green is on the case immediately. Within the first few seconds he’s thrown open the door and instructed the duty Healers to stop working, to use stasis charms and replacement fluids only. Malfoy falters slightly as he looks in through the door and sees Harry laid out on the bed, contorted with pain. He looks quickly away, and continues his explanation. The Healer duplicates select pages from Malfoy’s stash, then enters the room before closing the door firmly behind him.

x x x x x x x

The wait feels like forever. Ron goes and gets them all coffee and pastries from the hospital canteen. They all drink the coffee, but merely pick at the food. Hermione is dosing slightly when she hears a muffled cry. When she starts awake and looks around she sees Malfoy as he holds out the alert globe to Ron. The yellow is gone, the smoke a pale grey fading quickly out to white, striped through with wisps of purple. Ron takes it gently from the Unspeakable's hand and places it inside his satchel. Malfoy drops his head into his hands, elbows rested on his knees. Ron’s hand rests on his back between his shoulder blades. Hermione drops her head back to the wall and drops back into a fitful sleep.

x x x x x x x

After Healer Green leaves Hermione and Ron are allowed into Harry’s room. In his still unconscious state only his named next of kin are allowed in. After all, he can’t give his consent to anything else.

After Ron has stepped into the room and assured himself of Harry’s relative wellbeing he exits to the corridor and secures the swing doors with a modified locking charm. No one but medical staff will be able to enter this dead end of the ward. 

Hermione remembers one time that they had joked about putting a official plaque on the double swing doors billing it as “The Harry Potter Corridor”. Harry had laughingly but sheepishly insisted it unfair. After all, it wasn’t just him who got put in this out of the way room. He had pointed out that if the Minister, Ron or Hermione got spell damaged they would be hidden away here too. Maybe even other well known individuals who would otherwise be gawked at in the higher traffic areas of the ward. Back then Ron had pointed out that those other visitors were, however, theoretical, while Harry’s own occupation of the room on a regular basis was proven fact. 

Since Harry had become SI Auror Potter his trips here had tailed off. Now that he was the one coordinating, planning, assessing, not throwing himself into the fray. Hermione thinks she had maybe become a little complacent. Had forgotten that even now, all these years later, how little Harry often valued his own life.

After Ron has finished locking down ‘Harry’s Corridor’ he transfigures a doorstop from the vase on the windowsill, props open the door. Malfoy settles himself into one of the chairs in the corridor across from it, while Ron and Hermione settle themselves on the chairs inside the room. 

Each time the Healers come in to check on Harry they close the door behind them as they leave. Each time Ron stands and props it open again.

x x x x x x x

They won’t know if there is any long term damage from the curse until Harry wakes. Hermione is hopeful. It takes a lot to keep him down, and Malfoy got in quickly with exactly the right information. Although it had seemed like forever until Healer Green had started working, looking through the patient chart at the foot of Harry’s bed shows that there were, in fact, only twenty three minutes between Harry being admitted and the correct treatment starting. Malfoy had said he has no idea how long Harry had laid in Arcadia before that. It might have been nearly three hours, or maybe only the three minutes it had taken him between discovering Harry missing and Apparating to the scene.

She supposes he must feel responsible. Ron had tried to get him to go home, get some rest, but Malfoy had refused to leave. She knows it isn’t his fault, not really, but there is a still a sharp prick of anger at seeing him sat here waiting. Intellectually she’s glad he had been there, of course. He’d found Harry, brought him here, made sure he got the right treatment. She can see Ron respects him, and she trusts Ron’s judgement, really she does. But there is still a bit of her, a bit she thought had long gone, that would probably feel better if she could somehow blame Malfoy.

Ron and she have been taking turns at napping. She’s curled up on the small sofa by the window when she hears Harry stir. He’s not fully awake, not really, but it is the beginnings of consciousness. Ron strokes his head, tells him he and Hermione are there, that he’s safe. He looks so like Molly with their children that it tugs at something deep in Hermione’s chest. Harry calls out quietly for ‘Draco?’ before he falls back asleep, and that is enough to break the medical privacy spell on the door, and allow Malfoy to enter the room with them from then on. They watch him sleep.

x x x x x x x

Harry’s drifted in and out of conciousness a few times, but the Healers say he’s now in a true sleep. From all they can tell from their diagniostic spells there has been little lasting damage. Healer Green thinks he couldn’t have been hit by the curse for long before Malfoy brought him in. Both Hermione and Ron have separately been home for brief visits in the time since that became clear. They’ve said hello to the kids, changed their clothes and had showers. Malfoy has persistently remained. He’s been reading, and writing, along with staring out of the window. He hasn’t slept. Robards came in and Malfoy spent some time in the corridor with him, muffled angry words exchanged. Robards left with Malfoy’s write up of what little he knew of the incident, taking the papers back to the Ministry.

Hermione is sat by the bed checking reading a paper on Magical Prison Reform in Sweden when she looks down to see very green eyes blinking up at her. She smiles and hands Harry his glasses. “Hello, sleepy head.” She’s been in this situation, or similar, so many times before when they were younger. The feeling of relief is still monumental. It always will be. She helps Harry to sitting against the pillows, and hands him some water to drink. He groans as he sits, clutching at his head.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by the Knight Bus.”

She pulls the covers to sit better over him, and takes the glass of water away. “Well, that is what you get for tackling Dark curse wielding wizards alone. What were you thinking? It’s lucky Malfoy found you.” At that he looks around the room. “They went for coffee. Ron finally got him to leave the room, he’s been here the whole time. I think he feels responsible, but this is entirely on you Harry James Potter.” After hearing more from Ron over the hours she’s now firmly on the Unspeakable’s side. Harry had been reckless.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione.” She’s heard it so many times before. He quirks a smile at her, hopefully, takes her hand and she scowls at him. She knows she’ll forgive him. He’s her brother in all but the law.

She turns as she hears a noise at the door. Malfoy is there. Ron is quickly vanishing away the mess of coffee caused by the fall of the cup from Malfoy’s hand.

“You’re sorry?” He voice is low, threatening, “You’re fucking sorry? Have you any idea how reckless, how idiotic, your behaviour was, Potter?”

“Draco, I...”

“You’d read the research I’d done. You _knew_ how fucking lethal this thing was going to be, but you still went rushing in. You have a team, Potter, a good one,” he gestures to Ron, “we had a plan. Just because you spot some bit of information that YOU think needs dealing with there and then DOES NOT give you the right to go storming in and jeopardise everything, including your own life.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She’s seen Harry apologise for endangering his own life before, been on the receiving end often enough, but she’s never seen this look on his face. She’s shouted at him herself, years ago, but she’s never heard that tone in his reply.

“You never, EVER, do that to me again. Do you hear me? Don’t ever...” Malfoy takes a breath, looks away. He’s shaking and there are tears pricking his eyes. He starts up again “I can’t do this, Harry. You can’t...You don’t have any right to...” but the anger and adrenaline have started to ebb away, and his voice trails off with a sob. Now he looks drained, bone-tired. 

Hermione is suddenly reminded of a time when she had been at a park with her Dad, long before her Hogwarts years. A child had run out into the nearby road and the mother had instinctively followed, pulling the child sharply back to the pavement as a car hurtled towards them brakes and tyres squealing, and onlookers screamed. Back on the pavement the mother had shouted so loudly at her shocked child, the angriest eight year old Hermione had ever seen anyone, and then pulled her into the tightest hug, sobbing.

Malfoy drops into the chair beside Harry, and grabs his hand on the bed, dropping his forehead to it. She can still hear him speaking, muffled though it is. “You never ever do that to me again.” Harry is nodding, breathing shaky, even though the other man won’t be able to see the gesture. He pulls the band out of Malfoy’s hair, loosening the knot, and digs his fingers into it, carding them through it over and over again as he whispers his apologies. ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry, baby.’

Ron pulls at her hand to guide her out of the room. Kicks the doorstop away to let the door fall closed behind them as they leave.

x x x x x x x

**Author's Note:**

> I had pictured Draco in an outfit a bit like [THIS](https://pin.it/xd224rhpxjguzb). 
> 
> In my head for this fic the Unspeakables can dress how they like under their robes, so long as they dress all in dark navy blue.


End file.
